


A Flare in the Dark

by midoridev



Category: Anthem - Ayn Rand
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Artistic character, Gay, Graffiti, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Only if you squint - Freeform, gay babies, hopefully, i love them sm, i think, ill continue this eventually, only a little gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 07:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11144016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midoridev/pseuds/midoridev
Summary: "They are a tall, strong youth and their eyes are like fireflies, for there is laughter in their eyes. We cannot look upon International 4-8818 and not smile in answer."-Anthem, Ayn RandPage 29, paragraph 2





	A Flare in the Dark

“International 4-8818 are different. They are a tall, strong youth and their eyes are like fireflies, for there is laughter in their eyes. We cannot look upon International 4-8818 and not smile in answer. For this they were not liked in the Home of the Students, as it is not proper to smile without reason. And also they were not liked because they took pieces of coal and they drew pictures upon the walls, and they were pictures which made men laugh. But it is only our brothers in the Home of the Artists who are permitted to draw pictures, so International 4-8818 were sent to the Home of the Street Sweepers, like ourselves.”

 

“They backed away, as if they dared not touch us. Then they smiled, but it was not a gay smile.” International 4-8818 was a mess. There was a spark of inspiration that fluttered like a butterfly inside of them. They longed to enter the tunnel, and they longed to satisfy their curiosity of what was inside. They felt… a calling to them. An itch to enter the tunnel and discover its secrets. But they were not like Equality 7-2521. From a young age they were, but now… not so much. They stood with belittled pride and crushed creativity and their smiles no longer made others smile. They brought drear now; they brought a fear that they understood as a fear for them. They were dangerous- or at least seemed dangerous to their brothers and sisters. A smile without reason was not allowed and when one smiled without reason it often made others smile without reason.  
Reason was a rather tricky idea. For instance, when International 4-8818 delved into the tunnel with only a jar of fireflies to light their way? The reason to their actions were… cluttered, confusing, but astounding. They had been drawn the way a mouse drawn to crumbs on the floor. It was as though their curiosity would not have let them rest in their quarters and without rest came no productive work. A Street Sweeper’s work is not as important as those in the House of Scholars but nonetheless shall not be done with enervation. They crawled away from the rest of their brothers and fetched dozens and dozens of fireflies. Before dusk, the pesky insects were hard to find but International 4-8818 knew the undergrowth they loved best. Collecting the bugs was rather simple because they took forever to fly away.  
Stepping into the tunnel, International realized that they too had taken forever to fly away. The sparks from the lightning bugs glinted and showed International 4-8818 a glimpse of the wall of the tunnel. Unsaturated yet burning colors distracted their honey eyes and hypnotized by the sudden surprise they approached the wall until their forehead collided with the solid concrete. The fireflies and their magical lights gleamed once again and International 4-8818 cursed that they were too busy rubbing their forehead to see the colors again. The City was not nearly as colorful and International sat in awe as the insects blinked every few seconds. Masterpiece their mind nearly shouted. The thought echoed and resonated in their head. They fought it back. Different was bad, sinful, horrid, unbelievable!  
But International 4-8818 are different.  
The goofy cartoons they drew on the walls of the Home of Students were rejected. Their dream of becoming a denizen of the Home of the Artists were crushed. But with the scattered letters on the wall in such varying shapes, sizes, lining, texture… Each a different word or… a splatter of letters.  
One read “Michael”. International 4-8818 shook their head. Their curiosity only expanded. What did those letters mean? They were English of course but there was an intriguing idea about how the word sounded so… dare they say… individual. It had a ring to it. The House of Scholars would know the history, right? But if International 4-8818 even came close to them with such an odd subject…  
They shook their head. International 4-8818 decided that Equality 7-2521 was right. No one but them should know of this tunnel. This escape from the rest of society. No one should know especially…  
that International 4-8818 are different.  
They did not know what to call it. Their sense of creativity was enthralled by the utter beauty of such scandalous writing upon the tunnel. They sat and thought. They needed a way to communicate their discovery to Equality 7-2521. The two of them had an uncharacteristic preference for each other. Well, at least uncharacteristic to International 4-8818. Equality 7-2521 are different too. International 4-8818 rose to his feet; he was uplifted by the sense of not being alone. Surely, they were outnumbered greatly but that was no problem. It would never be a problem especially when the brothers were able to console each other about their differences. Their- their- individuality.  
The fireflies blinked with a ferocious gleam as though they were encouraging International to look upon a can in the corner of their eye. Walking quickly with their steps echoing down the long and dark tunnel, International 4-8818 grabbed the can and read the faded words along the tin cylinder. They shook it as the can directed and sprayed the paint. A purple color appeared on the wall. International 4-8818 stood and wrote “Michael” again and again; they experimented with different angles, different distances, different pressures on the nozzles. Finishing their practice, they left the tunnel deciding the name of the new art was to be called “Michael”.  
Much like “Michael”, Equality 7-2521 inspired International 4-8818. The way they spoke with such confidence but at the same time was almost hesitant. As soon as they realized how motivating and captivating the two were, International 4-8818 would go to sleep thinking about “Michael” and end up dreaming about Equality 7-2521 surrounded by spirals of color. The more they dreamt the more creative they were the next morning. They took their brother down into the tunnel with a new batch of fireflies. Equality 7-2521 did not recognize art but he appreciated how awe-spiring, how obscure the words were and how galvanizing the flow of the colors were. They told a story- at least to International 4-8818. Some words, like “lost” were coated in blues and whites of all shades. International 4-8818 found meaning in color. Their most recent work in the tunnel had given them a vexing cough but to them it was worth every gasp for air. With reds, purples, and golds, International had spray-painted “Equality”; they did it without the numbers on purpose. There were no other Equalities that even roughly compared to them. They were sole and idiosyncratic.  
“Michael,” they muttered. They looked to Equality 7-2521 to watch the soft grin on their face stretch to a wide-toothed smile. International 4-8818 opened their mouth to explain but their mouth dropped as soon as Union 5-3992 climbed down the tunnel ladder and stared back. The message of International 4-8818’s appreciation for how unique and inciting Equality 7-2521 are went down the drain as Union 5-3992 immediately made a break for the ladder once more. Dazed and embarrassed, International 4-8818 sat against the wall of their artwork and silently pleaded for the cough to embrace their lungs and suffocate them.  
“They use a word that we have never heard of, Michael,” International 4-8818 hacked, “They are not one together. They are one alone. We are a Transgressor of Preference. From now until the end of forever, you are my Michael. Do not let me forget this creativity though we will be told to.”  
“Accept the punishment and therefore receive less,” Equality 7-2521 mustered a response, “We are a Transgressor of Preference as well.”  
They reached the surface and before Equality 7-2521 fled from those doomed to take International 4-8818 away; they spoke once more:

“International 4-8818 are different.”


End file.
